


Made Your Way Into My Veins

by frikey



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Car Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frikey/pseuds/frikey
Summary: Colby wonders, very briefly, how they ended up here at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for my lovely friend vikki. she's the only person i know who loves ambrollins as much as i do.  
> it's been a long time since i've written anything wrestling-related, so bear with me, and let me know what you think (unless you think it sucks. don't tell me that). enjoy. xo

Colby wonders, very briefly, how they ended up here at all. It’s not like he’s complaining, not really, but he’s curious, eager to know when exactly things had shifted from _that_ to _this_.

By _that_ , he means sitting in the passenger seat of the rental car, head leaning against the window, watching the scenery outside pass by in a blur of color. The radio was on low, playing something neither he or Jon really cared to listen to, but it was better than hearing Jon bitch about the emo shit Colby was fond of. Not that Jon ever really meant it, but still. It’s the principle of it, an unspoken rule. Jon picks on Colby for his taste in shitty music, Colby picks on Jon for his taste in awful jeans.

Colby had switched, at some point, from staring out the window to watching Jon. Right hand resting on the steering wheel, keeping the car on course, left elbow resting against the window, a cigarette balancing between two long fingers of his left hand. Colby watched, almost inquisitively, as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times before, as Jon brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag, blowing smoke out into the air almost gracefully. It wasn’t a word Colby would use to describe Jon often, but that’s what came to mind when he was smoking. Or wrestling. Colby has no idea how he does it.

They’d barely spoken to each other since they’d gotten in the car. They weren’t angry, per se, weren’t even annoyed, aggravated, or tired of each other’s company. It was the kind of silence that comes from being absolutely, immutably exhausted, the kind of worn out and weary that can only be reversed by twenty hours of sleep in your own fucking bed. It was the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones, into every fiber of your being, and settles there.

“You look kinda beautiful like that,” Colby had blurted, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he’d even thought of saying them.

Jon had flicked his eyes over to Colby’s for a split second before switching them back to the road, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Colby breathed, taking note of the way the light from the setting sun was shining on Jon’s hair and turning it shades of gold and orange, and committing it to memory.

“I think you look kinda beautiful all the time,” Jon had commented, and it wasn’t snarky or insincere, it was just _Jon_. Colby had smiled and looked down at his feet.

“C’mon, don’t get all shy on me,” Jon had muttered, his left hand going to the wheel as his right one flitted over into Colby’s space, his fingers wrapping around Colby’s chin and tilting it upwards, until their gazes met. “Such a pretty little thing, and you know it, too. You knew it well before I ever started telling you.”

Colby had smiled even wider that time, a little laugh slipping out from between his lips, and Jon had smiled back.

Colby supposes that’s part of how they got here, how they got to _this_.

 _This_ being sprawled out in the backseat of the rental car, his sweatshirt pushed up his stomach as Jon’s hand roams underneath it. Jon’s mouth is on his neck, sucking at a spot just behind his ear that drives him absolutely wild, and he can feel Jon’s weight hovering just above him, solid and warm.

“You better not leave a hickey,” Colby insists, and his voice sounds off, distant even to his own ears, and he feels Jon chuckle against his skin. “I mean it, Jon.”

Jon ignores him.

It’s not like Colby really cares, though, because it feels so fucking _good_. Jon’s lips on his throat, Jon’s hand underneath his shirt. Jon’s fingers pressing against his chest, running down his side, taking in every inch of his skin as if this is the first time they’ve done this, as if this is the last time they’ll ever do it, as if they haven’t done it a hundred times before and won’t do it a hundred more. Colby loves that about Jon, loves that everything is so intense with him, too much and not enough all at the same time. It’s exactly what he needs.

“Ah, fuck,” Colby gasps as Jon nips at his collarbone, and then Jon’s hand is in his hair, tangling in the loose strands and pulling him in for a kiss. Colby’s lips part almost immediately, and Jon’s tongue pushes its way into his mouth, Jon’s teeth nipping at his bottom lip, drawing a quiet moan out of his throat. Jon swallows it down.

“I’ll never get used to this,” Jon says softly, his mouth dragging across Colby’s jaw, his nose pressing into Colby’s skin. Colby can feel Jon’s breath, can feel Jon’s lips moving against him, and the thought of Jon’s words searing into the bone underneath his flesh flashes through his mind.

Colby moans again, louder this time, a deep, desperate sound, when Jon grinds his hips down. He pushes his own hips up towards Jon’s, wanting, but Jon just grins down at him, his eyes shining brightly in the last rays from the setting sun.

“What do you want?” He asks, and it’s low, serious, barely above a whisper, but the words resonate in Colby’s head like Jon’s spoken through a loudspeaker.

“ _You_ , fuck—” Colby gasps, almost whines, reaching up to grab at Jon’s shoulders, to pull him close again, only to have Jon grab his wrists and pin them down. Hard. Firm. “Please, Jon, I want you. You know I do.”

“I know,” Jon agrees, still smiling, his teeth flashing in the near darkness. He’s looking down at Colby like he wants to eat him alive, and Colby thinks he’d let him. “I just like hearing you say it.”

“Fucker,” Colby mumbles.

Jon releases his wrists, his hands going to work on Colby’s jeans instead, and Colby reaches for Jon’s shirt, desperate for skin to skin contact. Jon lets Colby pull his shirt over his head, paying no mind to the way he tosses it in the general direction of the front seats. He pushes Colby’s sweatshirt up further, leans over and kisses the newly exposed skin, leaving a trail along the bottom of Colby’s ribcage, and Colby shudders at the touch.

When Jon finally gets Colby’s sweatshirt off, he pulls back, staring down at the angles and planes of Colby’s body, eyeing the dip of his hipbones, the curve of his collarbones, the way his chest rises and falls almost rapidly, like he can’t quite catch his breath and is virtually unaware of it.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Colby asks, teetering on the line towards self-conscious under the intensity of Jon’s gaze.

“Because you’re pretty,” Jon answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Colby watches as his eyes travel upwards, grazing past his own. “You know, I kinda miss the blonde in your hair sometimes.”

Colby rolls his eyes, but a smile finds its way onto his face nonetheless. “If this is your idea of pillow talk, you need some serious work.”

“Shh,” Jon says, leaning over again, until his mouth is close enough Colby can feel his breath, can taste the nicotine on it. “I like it better when you don’t talk. You’re such a mouthy little fuck, can’t even _pretend_ to appreciate it when I’m being nice to you.”

Colby opens his mouth to protest, to call Jon an asshole, actually, but then Jon’s mouth is on his, warm and wet and firm, and Jon’s hand is finding its way down his pants, rubbing over his painfully hard dick, and the words get lost in translation.

“Jesus, oh, _fuck_ , please—please,” Colby chokes out against Jon’s mouth, and he’s not even sure what he’s asking for, but he knows Jon will understand. He has to.

Jon’s mouth drops to his neck again, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin there, and when he says, “Please what?” soft and quiet into Colby’s ear, a shiver runs through Colby’s body. Jon likes to play games, Colby knows this, but it still sends chills through him every goddamn time. He can’t get enough of it.

“Please, just—just _fuck_ _me_ , damnit,” Colby gasps, and Jon smiles, his hand snaking its way out of Colby’s jeans. Colby whines at the loss of contact.

Jon leans towards the front seats, tossing aside discarded bits of clothing as he searches for his bag, which they’d moved up in their haste to get to the backseat. Colby stares up at the roof of the car, the warmth of Jon’s weight firm on his legs, and thinks that of all the places he’s asked Jon to fuck him, a car has never been one of them. Funny how in all their years together, they’ve never done this.

“Hey,” Jon says, and Colby startles a bit, his eyes moving to focus on Jon’s face where it’s hovering above his. “Still with me?”

“Yeah,” Colby exhales. He relaxes back into the seat again, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Sorry.”

“You sure?” Jon asks, the smallest hint of worry seeping into his voice. Colby nods. Jon leans down again, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Colby’s mouth, and says, “Good.”

Then he’s hooking his fingers in the belt loops of Colby’s jeans and pulling them off, muttering about how fucking tight they are and expressing his desire to know how the hell Colby even gets them on, and Colby laughs. He watches as Jon’s fingers dance along the waistband of his underwear, warm fingertips pressing against warm skin, and then he’s completely naked in the backseat of a rental car that’s parked somewhere along a mostly deserted highway in Bumfuck, Arizona. Surprisingly, he’s not that bothered.

“I always forget how beautiful you are like this,” Jon says quietly, dropping a kiss on Colby’s hipbone, and then his thigh, and Colby lets his head fall back against the seat when he hears the _snick_ of a cap flicking open. He feels Jon’s weight shift, hears him curse, and then, “I’m pretty sure I’m too fucking old for this.”

Colby snorts. “Nah,” He says, bending his knee with the gentle guidance of Jon’s hand, “You’re just too fucking long.” He gestures vaguely at Jon’s legs, and Jon grins.

“Maybe,” He lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, and then his hand is sliding between Colby’s thighs.

“Fuck,” Colby hisses as the tip of Jon’s finger pushes into him, his fingers curling around Jon’s bare shoulder. “That’s cold.”

“It’ll warm up,” Jon says softly. He’s staring down at Colby again, watching the way Colby moves underneath him, the way Colby’s nose scrunches up at the uncomfortable sensation and then relaxes as Jon’s finger pushes in deeper and the chill slowly melts away.

By the time Jon works three fingers inside him, Colby’s practically squirming, gasping and moaning into the air between them, his short, blunt fingernails digging into the skin of Jon’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Jon, god,” Colby whines, “I’m ready, just fuck me already.”

“Pushy,” Jon comments, but he pulls his fingers out nonetheless, and Colby groans at the loss. He can feel heat spreading across his cheeks and down his chest, and he’s thankful that Jon can’t see it in the dark.

“Hurry up,” Colby insists, adjusting his hips and hooking one leg around Jon’s waist as he scrambles to get his jeans down far enough.

“I can only move so fast,” Jon shoots back, but his tone is soft, lacking any sort of venom. “Maybe you should learn how to be patient.”

“Patience has never been my strong suit.”

Jon just gives his head a small shake in response, finally wrangling out of his remaining clothes and reaching down to slick himself up. He hooks Colby’s leg over his shoulder, his hand coming up to rest firmly against Colby’s stomach, partially for balance, partially to hold Colby in place.

Colby tosses his head back against the seat as he feels the tip of Jon’s cock pushing against him, and once he actually slips inside, Colby lets out a groan, something deep and guttural that radiates from the center of his chest.

“You good?” Jon asks, his voice strained. His own words flash through his head again—he’ll never get used to this, never get used to how Colby looks spread out underneath him, long expanses of tanned skin and toned, rippling muscle and messy curls that frame his face, never get used to how tight and hot and _gorgeous_ Colby feels.

“Yeah,” Colby answers, his voice just as choked off, “C’mon, fuck.”

Jon pushes in further, watching Colby’s face for any signs of pain, but there are none, just flashes of heat in his liquid brown eyes and tiny gasps falling from between his parted lips. Jon’s rhythm is slow at first, calculated, and Colby pushes his hips back against Jon the best he can, begging for more.

“You’re always so good for me,” Jon praises, still looking down at Colby’s face, his eyes occasionally moving down Colby’s body, watching the way he arches upwards.

“Always,” Colby breathes, his gaze lifting to meet Jon’s, “Anything for you.”

Jon fucking _growls_ , and his rhythm picks up then, growing more irregular, and Colby moans, his breath hitching in his throat with every thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so—” Jon cuts himself off, leaning forward as much as he can with Colby’s leg still slung over his shoulder, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “You’re so gorgeous. I can’t believe how fucking _gorgeous_ you are, shit. I wanna—I gotta—kiss you. I gotta fucking kiss you.”

Colby drops his leg, hooking it around Jon’s waist instead and pulling him even closer, shifting his hips upwards as Jon thrusts into him again, even harder than before. Jon’s fingers tangle in Colby’s hair as he leans down to kiss him, and it’s sloppy and intense and Jon’s teeth scrape his bottom lip a little too hard, but it’s _good_ and it’s exactly what Colby needs.

“Jesus fucking christ, you’re perfect,” Jon gasps as he presses his face against Colby’s neck. Colby can feel Jon’s breath coming out in long pants against his sticky skin, can feel Jon’s nose pressing against the line of his jaw. “Always so fucking _perfect_ for me, Colby, how do you do it?”

“I guess I’m just a natural,” Colby responds, and his voice almost gets stuck in his throat. He feels Jon’s lips curve into a smile against his neck, and he supposes it’s because that’s such a _Colby_ thing to say. This is what they do. Jon likes to talk, likes to ramble while they fuck, and Colby’s pretty good at bantering right back, always coming up with something snarky to say when Jon’s buried up to the hilt in his ass. It’s almost funny.

“Guess you are,” Jon breathes back, and Colby’s hands find their way to his shoulders, sliding down his back. Jon’s thrusts are almost frantic now, the hand in Colby’s hair impossibly tight, and Colby can’t hold in the moan that bubbles in his chest and claws frantically up his throat.

Jon is mumbling into his neck, saying something that Colby can’t quite hear over his own harsh breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears, and then Jon’s hips slam forward at a different angle, and—

“ _Fuck_ ,” Colby moans. It comes out strangled, sounding foreign, like it’s not even his voice. “Fuck, Jon, right there, god _damn_.”

“Yeah?” Jon murmurs, and he thrusts in again, harder this time, as if to prove a point, eliciting another choked off moan from Colby.

“Yeah, right there,” Colby pants, his nails digging into Jon’s back. “Fuck, Jon, please, _please_ , god—”

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jon interrupts as his hand slides down Colby’s stomach, and when his fingers wrap around Colby’s dick, Colby fucking _whimpers_ , torn between pushing back against Jon’s thrusts or up into his hand. “So pretty when you say my name like that. Say it again, baby.”

“Jon,” Colby says, and it comes out sounding like a moan. His head is spinning from all the sensations and his skin feels like it’s on fire, like it’s alive and alight with a thousand tiny stars flowing through his veins. “Jon, I’m gonna—I can’t, _fuck_ , ah—”

“S’okay,” Jon murmurs against Colby’s neck. He’s kissing at the spot behind Colby’s ear again, and the hand on Colby’s cock is moving in time with his thrusts, and that’s how Colby comes, hot and sticky between them, with Jon’s hand on his dick and Jon’s face buried in his neck, with Jon’s mouth pressed against his skin.

Colby can feel himself trembling, can feel the way his chest expands as he tries to catch his breath. He can feel Jon’s mouth moving against his neck, mumbling more nonsense he can’t quite understand, can feel Jon still moving inside him, slower, gentler. His nails are still digging into Jon’s shoulders, and he drags them down, _down_ , slowly, enough that Jon can really feel it, and he hears Jon curse into his hair.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” Jon whispers, and then his hips stutter to a stop as he comes, spilling warm and sweet inside Colby.

Colby’s still trying to catch his breath when Jon collapses, resting all his weight on top of him, and he huffs out a laugh. His hand comes up and his fingers comb through Jon’s sweaty hair, his fingertips rubbing at Jon’s scalp.

“What?” Jon asks after a moment, and it takes Colby a long second to realize he’s asking about the laugh. He laughs again.

“It’s just— _you_. You’re so—I don’t know,” Colby is quiet for another moment. “That was good.”

Jon lifts his head up from Colby’s chest, eyebrow shooting toward his hairline, and Colby’s hand slides down the side of his neck. “Just good? That’s all you’ve got?”

“Amazing. Fantastic. _Mind_ _blowing_ ,” Colby says, and then Jon’s leaning over to kiss him and laughing into his mouth.

“Damn _right_ , I blew your mind,” Jon snipes between kisses, his mouth gentle against Colby’s, “I blow your mind every fucking time.”

“Definitely. Every single time. You just fuck me _so_ _good_ , Jon, I can’t take _it_ —”  
  
“Okay, shut up,” Jon interrupts with a roll of his eyes, and he picks Colby’s sweatshirt up off of the floorboard and slings it at his face. “Get dressed, asshole. We’re sorta naked in the desert.”

Colby smiles. “Funny, I didn’t think _Dean_ _Ambrose_ would be bothered by being naked in the desert.”

“Ha! Very funny,” Jon shoots back, a mocking lilt to his voice as he pulls his shirt on, “Who knew _Seth_ _Rollins_ was such a mouthy little _shit_?”

“Well, to be fair, you’ve known it since the day you met me. You can’t really complain about it now.”

“The only thing I knew about you the first day I met you was that you had a really nice ass. One of the best I’d ever seen, actually.”

It’s Colby’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so we’re going there now?”

“Nope,” Jon answers, leaning over to press a kiss to Colby’s forehead before opening the door behind him, “We’re not going anywhere. Except home. Love you, by the way.”

“Nice save,” Colby comments as he slides out of the backseat, smacking Jon’s hand away from his ass when he tries to reach for it. “Love you too, _by_ _the_ _way_.”


End file.
